The Legend of The Black Swordsman
by The Lord of War
Summary: When Griffin joined both the world of fantasy and the world of reality together Guts was accidentally transported to a new world. Alone in a strange new world the Black Swordsmen must now make a new life for himself.


**Hello all,** **The Lord of War here. I'm back after a...shall we say momentary pause.**

 **This story ironically enough, came to me as I was listening to the song Forces while playing a League of Legends match. Literally, the premise came to me as soon as the song started on my iPod and my mind fucking ran with it. I think it's a pretty cool and interesting idea and** **hopefully you'll think so too.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Berserk or League of Legends.

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 **Chapter 1: A New Dawn**

Blood and flesh flew into the air as a man was vertically cleaved in two.

"Well!? Who's next?" A demon asked the Demacian soldiers around him." Who's got the balls to face Bellos, the Devourer of Souls!?"

The demon was easily over ten feet in length and at least six feet wide. Its skin was a mottled black color that was flecked with grey and purple. A ridge of bony spines ran along it's back, goat like horns sat on top of his head, hooves for feet, a lion like mane of black hair on his neck and growing red eyes. His attire consisted of a light red and purple armor that covered his entire body except for his head and goat like legs. He held in his hands a massive black two-sided battle axe drenched in blood.

At the demon's feet laid dozens of corpses sprawled around in various forms of dismemberment. Their blood covered the white marble floor of the town center making the stone floor appear as if it had always naturally been a blood red color.

Surrounding the demon in all corners were dozens of armored Demacian soldiers wielding various weapons in their hands from swords to hammers. None of the Demacian soldiers accepted the demon's challenge despite their numerical superiority over the demon. Not one dared take a single step forward. Every single soldier stayed absolutely still, as if frozen in place by a spell.

The demon soon took notice of this, "What! Is this truly the best the mighty warriors of Demacia can muster?" Not one of them dared argue otherwise." Pathetic! I've butchered pig farmers who put up more of a fight than this."

His words struck deep at the soldiers pride, should word ever reached Demacia of their cowardice, their own families would disown them to spare themselves the shame. Yet despite knowing this not one of the armored clad men and women dared so much as twitch in the demon's direction self-preservation outweighing valor and honor this day.

Anger started to show across Bellos face at the soldiers pitiable display of weakness. This is what the King of Demacia had sent to end his life? A bunch of spineless cowards who were on the verge of soiling themselves if they hadn't done so already. He who had brought a reign of terror throughout the Demacian countryside never experience before, since Hecarim, the Shadow of War first road through here years ago massacring entire towns and villages down to the last child. Killing all who stood in his way, leaving a trail of blood and devastation until reaching the very gates of the Institution of War and demanded to be allowed to join the League's ranks as a Champion.

Unacceptable!

Just flat-out unacceptable. How was he supposed to establish a reputation as a force of terror when all they sent after him were a bunch of second-rate wannabe soldiers who shit themselves the moment things stop going their way.

Bellos rage subsided when he caught sight of a man making his way through the crowd until eventually reaching the very front of the crowd of soldiers. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the man...he was certainly not a Demacian soldier.

The man was tall, with a muscular figure that only could have been acquired through years of hard exercise. Fair skin with a slight tan, no doubt, from constant sunlight exposure. Short spiky black hair at the base of his hairline, a few strands hang just above his forehead with a single gray strand on the left side. One eye open revealing a dark brown color iris and the other eye closed between eyelids. A small crescent shaped scar on his nose. His attire was a black suit of heavy plate armor with a long black cape attach around the neck, a dark brown leather belt strapped across his chest that housed several throwing knives, along with the most massive sword Bellos had ever seen hanging across his back.

Definitely an odd sight if there ever was one.

"Well, now aren't you out of place among all that blue and gold," Bellos said to the man. Eyes drawn to the massive sword at his back. If you could even call it a sword the thing looked to be over 6'6 in length(198 cm) and weighing by the look of it at least, 400 pounds. It resembled more a slab of raw iron than a sword." My what a big sword you have. It's really big. Tell me is it supposed to compensate for anything?"

The demon broke out in laughter at his own joke. But if the black clothe stranger took offense at the demon's jest none could tell.

"Oh, that was a good one...Who says demons don't have a sense of humor? But back to the matter at hand. You're not a soldier from Demacia so who how are you stranger?" He'd wager all the souls he had the man was a mercenary, he definitely had the look about him, but he wasn't entirely certain. You couldn't just judge a book by its cover after all. There were hundreds of second rate adventurers out there seeking fame and recognition, no doubt with dreams of joining the League someday. A few had even tried their luck against him several weeks ago...and let's just say their dreams of joining the League would remain just that _dreams_.

The Demacian soldiers gave the mysterious swordsman quizzical looks, they had never seen the man before, but none dared inquire as to ask who he was or why he was even here nor did they bother to stop him from facing the demon.

The swordsman didn't reply instead placed a hand on the hilt of his massive sword. Causing several of the soldiers behind him to take a few steps back in precaution to avoid getting hit by said sword when the fight began.

"Hm. Not much for words are you?" Bellos asked readying his axe, but like before, didn't get an answer out of the black clothe swordsman. Bellos wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt a burning desire to kill this man growing inside of him. "Fine! Come at me then!"

The man charged at Bellos who in turn charged at him axe held high while the man's massive sword was still dangling from his back. "Grrr," Roared the demon as he swung his axe down the man's right shoulder its intended target, but to Bellos surprise a black liquid suddenly sprouts out from the black armor the man wore and formed a beast like helmet enclosing the man's head. The black swordsman stopped and with one hand managed to unhook his sword and swing blocking Bellos attack his sword blade landing straight in the center of his axe shattering it in two followed by the demons left arm.

Gasps and cries of disbelief were heard from the crowd at what had just happened.

Bellos's eyes went bloodshot and wide as searing pain ripped through him. He looked at his left arm and the bleeding stump that remained. But before he could compose himself a second powerful pain ripped through him coming from his stomach. His eyes turned downwards and widened at the sight of a massive sword speared right through his abdominals.

"Im-impossible!" Bellos cried out, along with a mouth full of blood."How did-?"

The demon, however collapsed onto the stone floor dead before he could finish his final sentence sword still inside of him.

The swordsman wordlessly placed both hands on the hilt of his sword and pulled it free off of the demon's corpse, then hoisted it over his shoulders,"You were weaker than me," Guts told the corpse." That's how."

Guts turned to find the Demacian soldiers staring at him with stun faces and gaping mouths. Even though they'd seen it with their own eyes they still couldn't believe it.

"Does anyone here know the way to the Institute of War? I'm lost. " Guts asked the stupefy crowd." Also, there wouldn't happen to be a bounty on this bastard's head by any chance?"

XxX

(Half An Hour Later)

Turns out there had been a bounty on that bastard's head after all. A very large bounty judging by the size and weight of the bag of gold coins Guts now held in his right hand. He didn't bother counting the amount of money he had been given or even asked how much the demon bounty was even worth. As soon as the Demacian commander handed him the bag of gold and told him the directions he needed to know to get to the Institute of War, he had left as quick and suddenly, as he had arrived. Well, not quite as quickly as he had appeared the Demacian commander had been quite enthralled with his skills and as such had been most insistent on Guts sticking around long enough to hear his sales pitch as to why he should work for Demacia or as he called it "A financially and morally rewarding position in the service of justice" whatever the hell that meant.

Guts had turned the man down as soon as he had finished making his offer without so much as a second thought and then promptly left making his way down a dirt road. He wasn't looking for employment to solve his financial problems. He hadn't wandered into that town and killed that demon expecting any monetary reward. Although it was definitely nice to know he wouldn't have to hunt for his meals anymore for quite some time and could now afford to stay at an Inn instead of camping outside on the cold hard ground.

No what he was looking for was his companions, some answers and a way home if possible.

He'd admit he wasn't the sharpest blade in the armory when it came to anything else than swordsmanship and fighting but even he could deduce what had happened. It was the how or why part that Guts had yet to figure out.

The part that he did know was that he was on a completely different world than his own. A world similar to his own in certain ways, and vastly different in others.

It happened a few days ago, Guts along with his companions had been on board Farnesea ex-fiancé's warship sailing across the ocean to Elfhelm, to find King Hanafubuku who from the Skull Knight's encrypted and ominous message to him and Schierke on the beach when they last meet is believed to be able to cure Casca of her amnesia. It was a long shot of a gamble, but he just knew he had to try no matter how slim the odds were of succeeding, he had to try to bring back the woman he...had loved once. A few days after setting sail and repelling a pirate attack Guts had been standing on the quarter deck of the ship looking out at the sea when out of nowhere a blinding flash of white light brighter than the sun caused him to close his eye and cover his face with his arms. During that brief moment, he had felt a strange sense of vertigo and then the white bright light ended as sudden as it had appeared.

When he opened his eye and lowered his arms, Guts found to his astonishment, that he was no longer standing on board a boat or even anywhere near the ocean, he was on top of a hill with tall grass that reached his ankles, filled with yellow wildflowers, overlooking a marsh.

To say he was stunned, was an understatement his eyes were wide for what felt like hours, and several flies had managed to enter and leave his mouth several times before he could close it. Stunned disbelief, however soon turned to panic and confusion as Guts realized he was alone by himself no Puck, no Schierke, no Casca nobody. He panicked, not because he was worried about his own safety, Guts could look after himself, he's always looked after himself, since he'd been a child but rather he was worried about his friends' safety.

Guts held no doubt in his mind that Schierke and Serpico could take care of themselves. He knew how powerful the young witch's magic was powerful enough to drown an entire village and stop an entire column of demonic soldiers in their tracks and Serpico, was skilled enough to slay trolls and demon Tigers single-handedly. Puck and Evarella are the size of a human's hand with wings so Guts was certain the two could flee any situation that was too dangerous for them. Although he highly doubted the two Elves would ever abandon their companions to save their own skins but they have the means to survive if the worst comes to pass.

It was the rest of his companions that he was worried about. Farnese de Vandimion is not a skilled warrior by anyone's account, but at the very least the noblewoman knows how to use a sword. That's more than he could say about Casca, who was easily the most vulnerable of the group. With her mind shattered Casca possessed the capacity of a small child in terms of intellect and whose only real defense was to bit or run away.

This hasn't always been the case.

Once upon a time that seemed like another lifetime ago now to him, Casca had been the fiercest strongest woman he had ever met. She had led the Band of the Hawk as their second in command, leading them straight into countless battles right beside them in the thick of it. She fought just as fiercely as any other man beside her, if not more Guts would go so far as to say that Casca ranked within the top five best fighters the Band of the Hawk had at the time. When Griffin was captured by the Midland Army she held the Band of the Hawk together through sheer will alone during their lowest point for an entire year.

All that changed the day of the Eclipse the day of Griffin's betrayal. He and Casca along with the rest of the members of the Band of the Hawk had managed to locate and free Griffin from the dungeon he had been imprisoned by the King of Midland.

Throughout the entire year Griffin had been imprisoned, he had been brutally tortured to such an extent that neither Guts or any other member of the Band of the Hawk could scarcely recognize him. To make sure Griffin couldn't escape the torturer had cut the tendons in his hands and legs. The skin on his back had been peeled off the same has his nails. His face had been burned with hot iron and boiling water, and just to make sure no one could possibly recognize him the torturer had flayed a large portion of Griffin's face. His tongue had been cut off if it hadn't been for his piercing blue eyes and white hair they never would have recognized him.

How he wishes they hadn't.

If they hadn't recognized Griffin and just left him there Casca would still be sane, Judeau, Pippin, Corkus, Gaston and all the other members of the Band of the Hawk who died that day would still be alive. But life doesn't work that way. It rarely gives us what's best for use. Instead, it most often gives us grief and struggle. Sometimes he thought that's just what life is a struggle to keep on living. Whether the struggle is worth it depends on the person.

After fighting their way out of the dungeon with Griffin and escaping the Midland Army they rejoined the rest of the members of the Band of the Hawk, who had set camp next to a river and that was when...

"Ah! Why am I thinking about this crap now?"Guts asked himself out loud, then hit himself on the head with his right hand. As if to beat the thoughts out of his head. It worked. The thoughts were soon replaced by a painfully strong headache. That was without a doubt caused by the self-inflicted blow to the head.

"Shit!"Guts cursed as he felt the negative repercussions of his poorly thought out course of action.

The blow he caused himself felt like he had been struck in the head by a steel mallet." Dammit. I forgot this stupid armor increases my strength," Hitting yourself on the head with a steel gauntlet of any kind is going to hurt no matter what. But hitting yourself with a magically enchanted gauntlet that increases your strength to the point of being able to crack the skin of an apostle that was as hard as a diamond.

Would kill you if you weren't careful.

Case in point. The blow Guts just inflicted on himself would have stung if he had been wearing his old suit of armor, but with the current armor he had on felt like a mallet trying to crack your skull wide open.

The Berserker Armor as Schierke called, it is a cursed suit of armor of dwarves design which gives whoever wears it incredible strength, endurance and the ability to not feel pain. But only the parts of the wearer's body that are covered by the armor otherwise Guts wouldn't be feeling the mother of all headaches right now. The armor does this by allowing its users to bypass the natural subconscious limits that prevent them from injuring themselves when using their full strength. It can temporarily fix injuries by binding bleeding wounds, reinforcing broken bones, and fixing dislocated joints, piercing the flesh from within the armor with thin barbs and spikes if required. But it never heals its wearers injuries just fixes them so the user can continue fighting. And let's not forget the part where it can also cause temporary insanity, causing the wearer to enter a "Berserker rage", as well as increase the users' sense of fear both side effects that Guts had already personally experienced since he first put on the armor.

In the long term, Schierke warned him it could cause chronic mental deterioration.

Which was something that Guts definitely wanted to avoid. So much so that he avoided tapping into the full power of the Berserker Armor except during life or death situations and only used a small fraction of its power occasionally and since being separated from Schierke cut back even more on its usage. The last thing he wanted was to become some kind of mad feral like version of Casca with a suit magical of armor and a sword.

Just the mere thought of it sent a shiver down his spine.

As Guts continued down the dirt road deep in thought he failed to notice three ravens circling high above him that had been following him since he had left town.

XxX

(The Capital of Noxus - The Noxian High Command )

At the top of a granite mountain in the very capital of Noxus resides the headquarters of the Noxian High Command. A massive stone castle devoid of any artistic beauty, yet resonating strength and power to all who happen to gaze up at it. The mountain itself vaguely resembles a demonic skull from a distance, increasing the castles already fierce image. Inside it's stone walls housed the offices of the most powerful and influential figures in the Noxus government.

In one such room, sat a massive crystal ball that currently showed an image of Guts walking down a dirt road from a high vantage point on its glass surface. Around the crystal ball stood four mages dressed in black robes with a red axe skull insignia on their chests.

"Well." One of the mages spoke out loud, gaining the other three mages attention away from the crystal ball," Looks like that's as far as the Devourer of Souls go's."

"So much for his aspirations of being the next Hecarim." Remarked another mage with a black mustache dryly," Besides a few small insignificant villages on its border. The whelp barely caused Demacia any damage at all."

Ever since the creation of the League of Legends twenty years ago. War along with any other various forms of armed hostilities between the nations of Valoran were banned by the League. Instead the League resolved that all major political conflicts would be settled through the use of specially prepared arenas strategically located throughout Valoran. Inside these fields Summoners and Champions representing a particular political allegiance of their represented nation fought against another nations team representing their own political agenda. A much more humane way of settling political disputes then open warfare where untold thousands would perish. Yet that didn't necessarily mean the nations themselves stopped trying to figure out new ways to screw with each other.

"True, but considering what it cost us to summon him. Did anyone seriously have high expectations for him?" Questioned a mage with a red beard. Only to be replied with a series of no's from his fellow mages." Then mission completed...right?"

"I believe so," Agreed the final mage nodding his head." We've completed all of our mission's parameters." Their mission objectives had only been to weaken Demacia in any way possible, economically or militarily without them discovering it was Noxus's doing. So unless Demacia somehow discovers evidence implicating Noxus in Bellos rampage across their countryside. Which they won't because the four mages had made sure of it. They after all liked their heads just where they were and did not wish to see it chopped off and placed on top of a spike for all of Noxus to see.

So it was a pretty safe bet to say mission accomplished.

"We should inform the Grand General of our success. I'm sure he will be most pleased with our results."

The mustache mage snorted at the notion, "I think he'll be more interested to know about our black clad friend here, then hearing about how we managed to raze a few villages."

XxX

(Two Days Later - The Marshes of Kaladoun - Wetcrest Tavern)

Yasuo tried to appear as professional as possible as the patrons of the Wetcrest Tavern began to arrive for a night of drinking and relaxation. A fair-toned man of above-average height, atop of his head sat a well combed mop of black hair that would've reached his back if it wasn't tied in a ponytail. Behind focus lids sat a pair of unremarkable black eyes. He wore the clothes that had remained from his time as a guard in the Ionian military that seemed like a lifetime ago. Tattered and torn they hung off his body. The remains of his blue torn shirt did little to cover his torso and his blue pants fluttered with every movement. Armguards and shin-guards, who had long lost their shone. A collection of shoulder guards glinted on his left shoulder, shining like stars in the night sky. His sword laid across his lap inside its black sheet as he sat on a wooden chair, waiting to be called or needed.

With each passing second he grew more and more restless.

It was ironic that after all those years running from the law in Ionia, then traveling across the mainland where no one knew who he was or what he had done the only available work to Yasuo was a guard job. It was a guard job that got him into his situation, in the first place on the run from his formal teachers and countrymen. It wasn't a bodyguard job, at least; he was what the owner called a bouncer for the local town tavern. He was to make sure the men didn't bother the server girls or the waitresses as they called them here on the mainland, kick out the drunks and make sure no brawls started within the establishment.

Once years ago, he had been a pupil at a renowned Ionian sword school, a brilliant one at that he had been the only student in a generation to master the legendary wind technique. Many believed he was destined to become a great hero. However, his fate along with that of every single Ionian changed forever when Noxus invaded. Due to his talents with a sword Yasuo had been entrusted with protecting an Elder's life from the invading Noxians. A post he did not believe utilized the full extent of his skills, but regardless, had accepted after all guarding an Elder is a great honor for any Ionian.

For four months he had guarded the Elder inside the very school he attended far behind the front lines, while thousands of his fellow Ionians bled and died for their country's freedom. Four months of hearing his beloved homeland, suffering defeat after defeat, atrocity after atrocity being committed against them and the invincibility of Noxus armies. It did not bother him at first he had an important duty to fulfill he reminded himself every single day of those four months. Until that fateful night the war had finally come to him. Yasuo still dreamed of that night, hearing the noises of slaughter, the screams of his fellow Ionians and friends as the Noxus acid cannons melted their flesh and bones, all the while he was safely holed up in a room listening to it all. That had been the final straw that broke the camel's back. He abandoned the Elder he swore to protect and dived into the battle.

The fight was long and bloody. Never in his entire life had he seen such wanton destruction, such disregard for human life or decency. It was as if the only thing that mattered was whether or not you could kill the people that were trying to kill you or they you. No honor, no moral code, no religious creed just kill or be killed.

After a long night of battle the Noxians retreated at the first light of dawn defeated at last. Returning to his post and hoping to be forgiven for his brass actions Yasuo was stunned to find the Elder dead surrounded in a pool of his own blood.

Disgraced, Yasuo had willingly turned himself in, prepared to pay for his failure with his life. He was shocked, however, to find himself accused not just of dereliction, but of the Elders murder itself. Though confused and racked with guilt, he knew the assassin would go unpunished if he did not act. Yasuo raised his sword against his peers and fought his way free, knowing his treason would turn all of Ionia against him. Alone for the first time in his life, he set out to find the Elder's real killer.

He spent the next four years wandering the land, seeking any clue that might lead him to the true murderer. All the while, he was relentlessly hunted by his former allies, continually forced to fight or die. His mission drove him ever forward, until he was tracked down by the one foe he dreaded most– his own brother, Yone.

He memorized it all every single detail of that moment. From the brightness of the moon, the number of clouds in the sky that night, the direction the wind was blowing, the clothes they both had worn, even the smell of each other's breath he knew by memory.

Bound by a common code of honor, the two warriors bowed and drew their swords. Silently they circled one another under the moonlight. When they finally charged forward, Yone was no match against him; with a single flash of steel he cut his brother down. Blood spilled from his brother's chest, glittering under the brightness of the moon before falling onto the ground clutching his wound.

Overcome with emotion, he demanded to know how his own brother could think him guilty. Yone spoke: "The Elder was killed by a wind technique. Who else could it be?" Understanding swept over Yasuo as he suddenly realized why he had been accused. He professed his innocence once more and begged his brother's forgiveness. Tears streamed down Yasuo's face as his brother passed away in his arms.

He buried Yone under the rising sun, but could spare no time to mourn his brother's passing. Others would be after him before long. His brother's revelation had given Yasuo newfound purpose; he now had the clue that would lead him to the true killer. Swearing an oath, to bring the true killer to justice, he gathered his belongings and with one last look at Yone's grave, set out with the wind as his sole remaining companion.

He searched for over three years, seeking any who possessed the same wind technique as him, but found none...until by chance he came across a festival where they were showing a free broadcast of a League match. With nothing better to do at the time he had decided to sit and watch the match. That's when he saw _it_ the same technique as the one he had mastered long ago. It was there he knew he had found the Elder's killer at long last.

He burned every detail about her in his mind as he left the festival his destination clear now at last the League of Legends held the answers he seeks.

And one way or another. They will be answered.

...But first he needed to get there, which required supplies such as food and other essential traveling goods. Which is why he was here inside a sleazy tavern working as a guard.

It wasn't the best paying job, but it also wasn't the worst.

Plus, he needed the money, if he wanted to get to the Institution of War and prove himself worthy of joining the League's ranks. But before that could happen Yasuo needed to get there first and in order to do that, he needed to cross the treacherous Marshes of Kaladoun. Which was no easy feat to do, nor one that could be done cheaply for that matter. Anyone who wanted to pass the marshes safely needed to either hire a guide that would take you by boat across the numerous deep, murky swamps that made up the Marshes of Kaladoun or buy the vital supplies needed to make the journey by yourself.

Yasuo unfortunately was in the second category. He didn't have nowhere near enough money to hire a guide who knew the safest path to take him across the marshes. After working in the tavern for over a week he barely had enough money to buy the provisions he needed to cross the marshes alone.

It would take him a whole month to save up that kind of money and he absolutely _refused_ to let the Elder's murderer roam free for a single day longer.

He would just have to risk crossing the marshes by himself.

From his spot next to the front entrance of the tavern he could see everything that was occurring inside. The bartender cleaning a wooden mug with a dirty rag that looked like it hadn't been washed in years, the waitresses bringing the patrons there drinks while dodging spit, smoke and the occasional spilled drink. To the patrons conversing inside the poorly lit booths in the corners of the tavern.

Yasuo saw it all.

Even the part's he didn't want to see.

A thief seated in one of the booths haggling with his fencer for a higher price of his stolen goods. A fisherman sobbing by the bar's countertop being ignored by everyone as if he were a ghost as he told his tale of how his wife and only child were now homeless because alligators overran their home. Bandits sitting in a table in the center of the tavern boasting loudly of having robbed a family from Piltover of all their possessions.

It all made his blood boil. Every part of the samurai in him was telling him to do something. Throw the thief, fencer and the bandits out of the tavern and into the hands of the authorities, kill the crocodiles so the fisherman and his family can return home.

Yasuo wanted to do all those things and... yet he couldn't do a single one.

His employer the owner of the tavern had been very vocal that Yasuo could not interfere with the affairs of the establishment's patrons as long as they didn't try to start a brawl, harass the waitresses, fail to pay their check or cause a disturbance inside the building. There was nothing he could do without getting fired and having an entire day's pay deducted from his paycheck.

Not to mention he doubted any of those actions he wished to do would've done any real good in the long run. After all the Marshes of Kaladoun was a rather lawless land. Anyone with the right connections or deep enough pockets could get away with just about anything. On the very first day he arrived into town Yasuo had personally witnessed a man split open another man's head with a wooden club for swindling him in a game of dice. The man was soon apprehended by the local town guards, dragged into the local jail and promptly released the next day due to lack of evidence. Even though he, along with four others had seen the whole thing from beginning to end and told the guards what had occurred.

"If I had been accused of killing the Elder here. I could've just bought my innocence instead of having to go through all this trouble to clear my name," Yasuo thought to himself. The differences between his homeland and the land he was currently in were as clear to see as one could tell the night apart from the day. In Ionia, no amount of money or influence would spare you from receiving your punishment for the crimes you committed.

Yasuo thoughts were interrupted as the front door suddenly shot wide open with a loud creaking noise that caused everyone to divert their attention from whatever they were previously doing towards the front entrance.

In walked a man dressed all in black, save for a brown belt strapped across his chest and a large grey backpack that he held across his shoulder with his left arm. Carrying the largest sword anyone inside had ever seen on his back. Larger even than the sword used by the Might of Demacia, which was a pretty big sword.

"I-Is that supposed to be a sword?"Yasuo thought bewildered as he did a double take on the massive metal bar strapped to the man's back which was longer in length than the man who carried it. Not only was it long. It was extremely thick and heavy. Yasuo had seen and fought against opponents who had used large swords before, but this one tops them all. It's the kind of sword you would expect a giant to have on him instead of a man. Even if that man was tall and by the look of it as strong as an ox if he could carry that sword on his back. As well as wear a suit of heavy plate armor.

The tavern that was once bustling with the sound of laughter, clanking of cups and bowls on table, and scraping of chairs on the floors was now completely silent.

Yasuo eyes along with every other pair of eyeballs inside the building followed the man as he made his way towards the bar's countertop. Several of the establishment's patrons wisely moved out of his way to give him some space. The man's armor oddly enough didn't make the usual clanking sound that came with wearing heavy plate armor. Even more shocking was the fact that he managed to reach the wooden countertop without his sword knocking anything over. Which was no easy feat to accomplish considering the tavern wasn't very spacious.

Guts came to a stop right in front of the bartender.

"What can I get you pal?" The bartender asked as if one of his regulars had just walked in for his usual. Instead of a complete stranger carrying a massive sword on his back, and several throwing knives strapped to his chest. Then again, if you work for a business whose clientele are made up of thieves, murderers, bandits and just about any other kind of scum of society. A man carrying a huge sword on his back isn't so out of place.

"A room for the night," Guts told the man. He had been traveling since sunrise and could use a good night's sleep, preferably inside a room that had at least a decent enough bed and didn't smell like piss." And the strongest drink you've got."

"Sure," The bartender replied, nodding his head." What currency would you be paying with?"

Guts didn't have the slightest clue of the name of the currency he had been paid with for killing that demon two days ago. So he reached inside his backpack, pulled out the bag of gold he been given as payment and took out a single gold coin and held it up to the man.

"Demacian noble," The bartender said, eyeing the gold coin." Then you're looking at three gold nobles as your total."

Guts nodded and took out two additional coins for a total of three and handed it to the bartender. Who took the coins, then placed them inside a small white bag, then reached for a pair of keys hanging behind him off of several key hooks and removed a single key." Your room is upstairs third door on your right," The bartender informed him handing him the key to his room." You want that drink now or later after you made yourself comfortable?"

"Now."

The bartender nodded then began to work preparing his drink.

Guts wordlessly with one hand removed his sword from his back and placed it next to the wall closest to the wooden countertop before sitting down on a wooden stool. That surprisingly didn't break under his weight. Slightly tilting his head around, he found that he was still the center of attention, although a few of the tavern's inhabitants had gone back to whatever they were doing before he arrived. Most, if not all of them were barely worth a second glance even the four menacing looking men armed to the teeth sitting in a table in the center of the building.

All except for one.

He was sitting in the very front on the left-hand side to the entrance. Wearing the most foreign and ragged clothes Guts had ever seen anyone wear since arriving in this strange new world that somehow shared the same language as his own. In his lap sat a sword of foreign design inside a black sheath. His hands weren't on the hilt of his sword, or anywhere near it yet Guts knew the man could draw his sword in a second.

Turns out Yasuo was examining Guts just as he was him. Their eyes crossed each other's path in that precise moment. Neither one daring to look away from the other. Both men, sizing the other from across the tavern.

Yasuo clenched his jaw and one hand reached for the sheath at his lap, his thumb pushed the hilt of the sword ever so slightly. He didn't want to fight him, but his hand moved by instinct. Plus, it was his job to break up fights, he couldn't start one.

A grin found its way across Guts face as he noticed the subtle reaction. He wasn't here to cause trouble. Honestly, he had enough problems to deal with already without adding any more to the list. A quiet place to spend the night and a few strong drinks that's all he wanted. It wasn't his fault people just assumed he was trouble based off of his appearance.

Or was it?

"Here you go," The bartender said loudly placing a glass cup right in front of Guts." Graggy whiskey. Straight from Gragas personal brewery. If this doesn't knock you flat on your ass. You're either an undead or there's something quite not right about you."

"Thanks," Guts told the bartender who nodded in return, then quickly left to refill another man's cup.

XxX

(Outside - Wetcrest)

It was a bright and cloudless night, the light from the full moon and stars lighten the town of Wetcrest better than the dimly lit street lamps that were installed throughout the town. Then again, there wasn't exactly anything worthwhile to illuminate in Wetcrest. Its buildings were in a derelict state, with worn-out paint covering most of them while the rest didn't have any paint at all. Wooden boards covering broken windows. Roofs riddled with holes, some big enough for a child to fit through. Tall straggly grass was the norm outside every building. The streets were littered with trash of all kind from harmless paper to dangerous broken glass. Horse feces could be found in nearly every single street along with puddles of murky foul-smelling water. The air itself was nauseating no doubt due to the poor sanitation, but mainly because of the pitch black coal smoke that burns ones throat once inhaled too deeply coming from the chimneys.

Wetcrest's inhabitants weren't much better. A man with a bottle of Blue Flame rum stepped into an alley lowers his pants and begins urinating on the side of a building as he whistles a tune. Not far away from the first man two men were brawling on the side of a street corner as a small crowd watch cheering them on. Two blocks down from the two men, a group of skimpy clad women offered their services to a group of men in front of a hotel called "The Pussy Lane Hotel" which was next to a school for children.

Akali wasn't bothered by it though. She had seen it all before on previous assignments on behalf of the Kinkou Order which required her to travel extensively all across the world. Which was something she considered a perk about her job. Very few people have the means of traveling all across Valoran, and see for themselves all her wonders and majestic beauty.

She considers herself one of the fortunate ones who could. Even if some of the places the Kinkou sent Akali to weren't the most elegant or safest of places to be.

"This must've been how Zaun started out in its heyday before it grew into a metropolitan," Akali thought as she gazed over Wetcrest. From her spot on top of a large tree branch perched on top of a hill she had a clear-eyed view of the entire town. She was a fair skin young woman, with dark green eyes and long black hair tied in a ponytail. Her attire consisted of a green half balaclava face mask and headband. A short, sleeveless, dark green tunic, which left most of her shoulders and back bare as well as revealed a bit of cleavage around the sides. Underneath the tunic she wore a green mini-short. Around her waist was a green belt that kept the tunic from falling off. On her arms she wore a pair of green fingerless elbow length gloves as well as two arm guards. At her feet she wore a pair of green over knee socks, covered with leg armor, and a pair of green sandals.

In her hands she held two kama that if all went as it should she would be making good use of them very shortly.

She felt the presence of someone behind her, yet was not alarmed by it," What do you have to report Hanzo?" Akali already knew who it was and why he was here. After all, she was the one who had ordered him to scout ahead.

"We have just confirmed the Elders murderers location," Hanzo said, bowing slightly to his superior." He is working as a guard in the local tavern."

"How was the information confirmed?" Akali asked him as she turned coming face-to-face with the man. He, along with the other members of her hunting party was dressed in what many people would consider typical shinobi attire or as the mainlanders prefer to call people in her profession ninja.

"Multiple witnesses have accurately described his facial features," Hanzo answered without a moment's pause.

Code for he was the only Ionian in town. Probably the only one the townspeople have ever seen in their entire lives." "Very well. Tell the others to regroup and monitor the tavern from a distance until it closes. Once the building is nearly empty save for a handful of stragglers is when will make our move. First, you along with the others are to cover all possible exits and prevent the fugitive from escaping. Do not engage him unless he tries to escape. Second, you are to prevent anyone from entering the building, but refrain from harming anyone if possible. Third and final if by some chance a League Summoner were to appear you are all to flee or let yourself be capture, under _no_ circumstances are any of you to resist. "

Although the chances of that last one actually happening were astronomically low. But not unheard of and definitely not impossible. Two years ago a League Summoner had suddenly appeared and put a stop to a nonleague fight between the Void Walker and the Prophet of the Void then arrested both of them. They both were sentenced to six months incarceration in a specifically designed undisclosed league prison. Only being let out to participate in league matches throughout their whole six months imprisonment. And before that incident the League had managed to prevent the Demon Jester from murdering a journalist from the Journal of Justice news magazine.

"And yourself?" Hanzo dared ask, noticing Akali had left out the part of what exactly her role would be in all this. Although after working with her for so long since she took over her mother's sacred duty of Pruning the Tree many years ago he already had a pretty good idea of what she was about to say.

"I will confront the outlaw by myself. I will give him one chance to surrender peacefully and return to Ionia to face justice. But regardless, he will be returning with us to Ionia, one way or another." Whether he returned to Ionia in chains or as a corpse rest solely on him. The means did not matter only the end of said means.

Hanzo thought of questioning the wisdom of such a bold some would even go far as to say reckless course of action, but he immediately dismissed those thoughts. Once the Fist of Shadows, sets her mind toward a particular course of action there is little that anyone can do to persuade her otherwise.

XxX

(Back Inside-The Wetcrest Tavern)

Yasuo was not a prideful person. He could admit when he was wrong and he was definitely wrong in his assumptions about the man in black. The very moment he laid eyes upon him. He had assumed the man was nothing but trouble. After all, he definitely looked the part. But as it turns out he had made an error in judgment. The man wasn't hostile at all. In fact, compared to everyone else in the tavern who were loud and at times obnoxious the man was rather serene. Since his arrival, the only thing the man had done was drink his liquor in silence, with the occasional word exchanged between the bartender and him here and there.

Never in his entire life had Yasuo been so glad to be proven so wrong.

A small part of him felt like he should apologize to the man for thinking so poorly of him. But Yasuo doubted the man cared much what a complete stranger working as a lowly paid guard in a sordid establishment thought about him. If anything he might find the whole thing rather amusing.

Yasuo covered his mouth as he yawned softly. It was almost closing time. Soon the establishment's patrons would have to either go to their rooms or head home for the night. Many have already done so already. The building was nearly empty save for a few handful of people.

All in all the night turned out to be rather uneventful. Besides throwing out a few rowdy drunks and a man who groped one of the waitresses there hadn't been much for Yasuo to do.

"All right people were closing in five!" Announced the bartender loudly grabbing everyone's attention along with waking up a few who had fallen asleep." Those of you who are staying with us for the night head towards your rooms and for the rest of you guys... get the _fuck_ out of here."

Even though he had seen it before it still amazed Yasuo at the level of ease the establishments employee's use of vulgarity towards their clients.

A few people protested, but for the most part everyone did what the bartender had instructed them to do. Yasuo watched as a group of five men drunkenly stumble out the door as they hurled insults at the bartender. Who were soon followed by two men wearing black cloaks.

"Hey you," Came a mild voice.

Yasuo tilted his head towards the origin of the voice and to his surprise, found it belonged to the man dressed all in black. Who was still sitting in the same exact spot since he arrived hours ago. The only difference now was that he had a wooden mug in his right hand and was looking directly at Yasuo.

"Me?" Yasuo said, pointing at himself to make sure he wasn't referring to anyone else. After all, what could he possibly want with him.

"You see anyone else here?"Guts said, right back at him, then took a quick sip of the drink he held in his hand. He'll say this about this new world he was in they definitely knew how to make alcoholic drinks. Whatever this beer thing he was drinking it was awesome. It tasted great and very refreshing. Not at all like the piss he was accustomed to drinking back in his world. Compared to this the ale they served in his world might as well have been piss.

Yasuo looked around and found that the man was indeed correct. He was the only one currently here besides him. Everyone else had left even the bartender and waitresses had vanished. No doubt into the kitchen to grab the essential cleaning supplies needed to start cleaning up the numerous messes left by the establishment's patrons.

"Hm, it appears you are correct. I am the only one here," Yasuo said, turning to face Guts. A part of him. He wasn't sure why felt unnerved at the realization of being left alone in a room with the man sitting across from him.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me?" Even though Guts had been in this strange world for almost a week he barely knew anything about it. The people he had asked previously didn't really know a whole lot besides what was considered common knowledge.

He was in the world called Runeterra which consists of a single large landmass a supercontinent named Valoran. Which has eleven known factions currently residing on the supercontinent. Six nations with more than one settlement, three city-states with a single settlement and two non-governed territories. The six nations were Demacia located in the west, Noxus in the east, Shurima in the south, Freljord in the north, Ionia in the northeast off the east coast and Bilgewater to the southeast also off the east coast of Valoran. Of these six nations the two most powerful were Demacia and Noxus who coincidentally happen to be mortal enemies. The three single city-states were Bandle City in the southeast of Valoran, Piltover and Zaun in the northeast. The last two factions were non-governed territories. Mount Targon near the very center of the Valoran and the Shadow Isles to the northwest off the west coast of Valoran.

Guts had even managed to acquire a little bit of knowledge about the current political situation between Demacia and Noxus. Be it in the strangest way possible. Overzealous fans. Apparently there was a big match coming up between Demacia and Noxus on who would get to determine export restrictions on certain goods. It was the talk of the entire town Guts had passed through yesterday possibly the whole country of Demacia.

However, as fascinating as all this new information was. What he was most interested in learning about was the League of Legends itself. Guts knew the gist of the League an organization created to mediate the political conflicts in Valoran and prevent war from breaking out. He wasn't sure how they managed to pull it off, but somehow the League succeeded in doing just that. There hasn't been a war waged on Valoran in almost twelve years... while unless you considered what happened in Kalamanda last year. But in Guts opinion that was more a skirmish then a actual war.

All in all, the League has worked out pretty well for the people of Valoran. It sure as hell beats the alternative.

Just have a look at his home world.

Instead of nations settling their disputes with massive armies fighting it out due to the League, they now settled it with Champions that represented a certain country and...whatever the hell a Summoner was. Some kind of sorcerer or wizard? Guts wasn't entirely sure, given what he had been told from the various people he'd spoken to about them. Some people believed that the Summoner's just handle the magical aspects of the fights in the League, others say that summoner's simply referee the fights and make sure foul play doesn't occur. A few even say that the Summoner's controlled the Champions during the fights like puppeteers controlling puppets on strings...the people who say that last one are also considered, not the most stable of individuals mentally.

"Questions?"Yasuo inquired narrowing his eyes."What kind of questions? _"_ Very few people asked questions here in Wetcrest. And the ones who did were either looking for someone who they would really appreciate catching in a dark alley in the middle of the night, informants looking for worthwhile information to tell their bosses or bounty hunters. Considering he was a wanted man that last one concerned Yasuo the most.

Guts noticed the sudden leery expression, but wasn't sure what had caused it, "Um...you wouldn't happen to know how the League selects its Champions by any chance?"

"The League!?" Yasuo called out in surprise, dropping his suspicious gaze as suddenly as it had appeared." As in the League of Legends?"

"Is there any other organization with the word 'League' attached to its name, that also happens to call its members with the title of champion?"Guts through back at him sarcasm dripping from each word.

'W-well...there's the League of Farmers," Yasuo pointed out, receiving a pointed look from the man across for his troubles that caused him to flinched slightly," But I doubt they refer to their members as champions."

"Does it look like I'm out to join an organization of farmers?" Seriously, there couldn't have been anything remotely farmer-ish about his appearance. Nothing at all that would give anyone the impression that he spent the days plowing fields and planting seeds for a living.

"...No."

"Then am talking about the League of Legends," Guts pointed out with a smirk across his face." Now that that's clear. Do you know how they choose their Champions or not."

I have to stop jumping to conclusions was the general thought that crossed Yasuo mind." I'm not exactly sure on whether or not this is true. But from what I've read from the Journal of Justice each person who wishes to join the League as a Champion has to undergo something called a Judgment before they're accepted in. However, I've heard they won't even let you undergo a Judgment unless you can prove to them your worth it."

Guts nodded, taking in everything he'd just been told. The proving part wasn't an issue. He was more than qualified to undergo the league's test. He had fought and killed thousands of soldiers, monsters and demons throughout his life. So proving himself worthy of undergoing a single test from a group of magicians should be easy enough to accomplish. It was this 'Judgment' thing that had him worried. What could it mean? A judgment of what? Skill? Strength? Fortitude? Character?

If it was a combination of the first three then Guts had nothing to worry about he had skill, strength and fortitude in spades. His character, however, was an entirely different matter. If the league was looking for champions of virtue, then he was seriously screwed.

"This Judgment thing. Any idea what it involves?" Guts asked, hoping that it just involved one's prowess and nothing virtuous or pious otherwise he might have a serious problem on his hands.

Yasuo shook his head," Sorry the news article I read did not mention anything about what a Judgment would involve... However I have heard rumors that it involves magic that makes it impossible to deceive the summoner's conducting the Judgment."

Just great! There goes his idea of lying his way in.

"What kind of people does the league usually choose to be champions? Are they... paragons of virtue and justice?"

"There...," Yasuo began, but then paused to find the right words. He didn't want to speak ill of the League especially after all the good they've done all across Valoran. If it wasn't for them, war would still be being waged across the entire continent. If it hadn't been for the league the Ionian- Noxian war would never have ended. As well as the Noxian occupation of Ionia's southern provinces. Not to mention all their charitable work from feeding the homeless, funding orphanages, providing health care to low-income families to even providing therapy to soldiers suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder and various other social programs. Yet despite all this goodwill, it was hard to call the Champions of the League paragons of virtue and justice. Although Yasuo was certain that at least a few fell into that category. But for the most part the league was filled with rather questionable individuals who in his opinion did not deserve their titles as champions.

"They're from all walks of life," Yasuo finally answered as respectfully as he could." The League strives for diversity after all."

Guts had to fight off the urge to frown. That wasn't the answer he had been looking for. He didn't care that the league accepted anyone from all social, economic and ethnic groups. Although it was reassuring to know he wouldn't be rejected due to his social status. What he wanted to know was whether or not they only accepted good moral people...and if they accepted less principled individuals into their ranks.

"You're thinking of joining the League?" Yasuo asked, although it came off more as a statement than a question. Not that there was anything to question about it. No one would ask those kinds of questions about the league and not have any ideas of joining.

"Yes," Guts replied simply before chugging down all the beer that remained inside his mug.

The Ionian fugitive could not resist the grin that found its way across his face. Who would've thought he would meet someone else who also wanted to join the league in such a remote place such as this. It really was a small world after all." What a coincidence. So am I."

"You don't say?" Guts said, placing the mug on top of the wooden counter top he was leaning on. He was about to make a remark about it being a small world. When he suddenly felt a slight shiver go through his spine, followed by his wrists becoming itchy and finishing with the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. It was a reaction that he had developed and learn to trust over the course of his life. That meant one thing and one thing only.

A warning that danger was near.

Immediately he was on alert, scanning his surroundings with his eye desperately trying to locate the source of the danger. For a few seconds he found nothing the building appeared to be completely deserted save for the man across from him and the occasional noise coming from the kitchen. Yet Guts didn't doubt his senses for a single second. If they said there was danger here, then there was danger here.

Guts faith in his senses turned out to be well-placed yet again as he spotted something strange at the other end of the room a shadow that seems to be moving towards...

Yasuo was baffled by the man's sudden change in demeanor. One minute he had appeared at ease drinking his beer as they conversed and in the next he looked alert and ready as if expecting to be mauled by a mountain at any moment. His face stern as his eyes frantically looked all across the tavern, hand close to the brown belt strapped across his chest that housed numerous knives.

It's as if he's preparing himself for a fight Yasuo thought, noticing the signs of someone readying themselves to do battle. But that couldn't have been it. He took a quick look around the room to find it still empty save for the two of them. So unless Yasuo had somehow said something offensive to the man which he did not believe he had done the only one to fight... was him.

That idea was reinforced when Guts narrowed his eye at him.

Cautiously Yasuo began to reach for the hilt of his sword but stopped midway. When he noticed Guts eye was not focused on him, but behind him. As if he was looking at something or _someone_ behind Yasuo. Which was absurd. No one could sneak up on him without him noticing. He had been trained since childhood with various masters to make sure such a thing did not occur. Each and every single one of his masters had taught him the importance of being aware of one's surroundings, sometimes rather harshly.

The only ones who could possibly sneak up behind him would have to be either a Noxian assassin which he doubted Noxus would send after an Ionian fugitive who murdered one of Ionia's political leaders. If Noxus bothered to track him down at all. It wouldn't be to kill him, but rather to thank him and offer Yasuo a spot among their degenerate ranks of cutthroats. A highly skilled bounty hunter, could also perhaps sneak up on him but that seems unlikely considering his bounty wasn't large enough to attract such a talented person's interest. If anything Yasuo's bounty was rather modest which surprised him. You would think the Ionian government would've placed a much larger bounty for someone they believed murdered one of their head political figures.

That only left ninjas as a viable...

Immediately clutching his sword Yasuo threw himself forward out of the chair he had been sitting on just as a knifehand strike narrowly missed his neck. Landing several feet away Yasuo turned to face his attacker while simultaneously drawing his sword only to go pale at the sight of her.

"Y-You!" Yasuo shouted in disbelief at the woman who just attempted to attack him. Akali, the Fist of Shadows a League of Legends Champion as well as one of the triumvirate of the Kinkou Order charged with eliminating those whom the order deems a threat to the equilibrium of Valoran.

Akali narrowed her eyes in annoyance, but not at Yasuo instead the annoyed look was directed towards Guts. She wasn't sure how but somehow he had managed to detect her presence and then most surprisingly had actually found her. Normally she would've been impressed. It's not every day someone manages to spot her when she doesn't want to be seen. But considering he just cost her the only chance she would ever get to finish her mission without incident, she was more irritated than enthralled.

"Why are you here Fist of Shadows?"

The Kunoichi shot Guts one last displeased look before addressing the fugitive," Yasuo you are under arrest by order of the Ionian government for the murder of an Elder. Surrender peacefully and you will be taken back to Ionia unharmed to face justice. Refuse... and I'll kill you right here and now murder."

Yasuo couldn't believe this was happening. Never in his wildest thoughts did he ever assume this could actually occur. Not the part of being accused of murder or the fact that one of his fellow countrymen would follow him to the mainland to trying and bring him in. No what stunned him was the fact that they would send a member of the Kinkou who happens to also be one of their highest ranking members to arrest him. Almost eight years after he had been accused of said crime. Sure, during those eight years there had been some people who had tried to apprehend or kill him. Whom he had injured or killed in self-defense to escape. But they had never sent a damn League Champion after him during those years.

Well up until now anyways.

"I don't understand," Yasuo said," Why would the Council of Elders send you of all people to arrest me? As a matter of fact, why are you even obeying their decrees? Aren't the Kinkou supposed to be an independent organization outside of any government's control or influence?"

"That is correct," Akali replied," The Kinkou is an independent organization nonaligned to any faction dedicated solely to the preservation of balance in Valoran,-"

"Then why are you coming after me!?" Yasuo interrupted his heart beating wildly inside his chest." On behalf of the Ionian government no less." That was the part Yasuo had trouble grasping if the Kinkou Order was an independent organization, why were they doing the Ionian governments dirty work for them. They couldn't have deemed him a threat to the balance of Valoran. All he had been doing for the past eight years was running and hiding from the law. Along with killing the occasional bounty hunter in self-defense. Morally questionable, perhaps, but not exactly something that will throw the whole of Valoran off-balance.

Akali pondered on whether or not to answer his question then after a second decided to do so," I'm sure you're aware that the order has come... under rather hard times as of late." It wasn't like she was revealing any secret information anyways. It was all common knowledge at this point." Our monastery has been taken over by the Master of Shadows and his followers of the Order of Shadows. Many of our members died defending our ancestral home, but once it became clear the battle was lost the surviving Kinkou fled for their lives. With our home lost we retreated to one of the orders safe-houses to care for our wounded and regain our strength. Only to be attacked in the middle of the night yet again the resulting battle not only cost more Kinkou their lives, but also the mansion we were residing in was burned to the ground in the ensuing battle..."

The kunoichi stopped as the memory of those dreadful days flooded her mind. Reopening old wounds. She, along with many of the Kinkou had lost friends and loved ones during those dark days that seemed to never end. Friends who Akali had known her entire life since childhood. People she had trained besides, since they could walk whom she had shared secrets that will never be revealed again.

"After surviving yet again," Akali began explaining again." We fled to another of our safe houses, only to discover it had been burned to the ground. The next one we fled to was in a similar state and the next and the next. Until we realized the Order of Shadows had destroyed all of our safe houses, save, but a few," Akali hated to admit it but Zed had played his cards well. After he had taken the monastery he and his followers of the shadows began torching every single place the Kinkou might have taken shelter in. Which they did not have trouble finding as a former member of the Kinkou Zed knew every single one of the orders safe houses except for the few that had been kept hidden from him.

"But shelter was the least of our problems our monastery was more than just a symbolic building made of stone and wood. It was also where the order housed it's treasury," Along with certain other things that Akali felt he didn't need to know." Without our treasury we could no longer afford certain goods and services that are essential in our line of work. Let alone fund missions to preserve the balance of Valoran." A gross underestimation of the crisis, they had faced in truth, they barely had enough money to feed and clothe the surviving Kinkou members." Faced with such a difficult situation, we were forced to make a... difficult decision that went against our doctrine. We accepted a deal offered to us by the Enlightened One on behalf of the Ionian government where in exchange for the Kinkou's cooperation in certain matters the Ionian government would in return fund the order."

Yasuo couldn't believe what he had just been told he had heard about the Kinkou being driven away from their monastery, but still...

Wait! Hold on a second," Y-Your arresting me for money?"

The kunoichi shot Yasuo a nasty glare, but didn't deny it. She hated to admit it, but it was the truth.

"I can't believe this you are! You and your order are nothing more than a bunch of mercenaries now!"

"How dare you compare us to mercenaries murderer!"

Guts stared at the scene unfolding in front of him with an amused look on his face. For once in his life he hadn't been the cause of said trouble. It was kind of refreshing to be honest. He watched silently as the two argued back and forth hurling insults and accusations at each other. To Guts surprise the verbal fight was completely absent of any foul language. The closest word that might be considered vulgar were the words 'damn' and 'hell' which were both used by that guy Yasuo who Guts had been talking to previously.

"Enough!" Akali shouted, "I will not allow the Kinkou Order to be criticized by a treacherous murderer such as you. Surrender now or I'll take your severed head back to Ionia with me."

"Come and take it if you can ninja," Yasuo said assuming a fighting stance.

Well, now looks like things are about to get a whole lot more interesting thought Guts looking between the two Ionians. He wondered which one would make the first move.

* * *

 **I think I'll like writing this story. I've watched all the anime episodes and read all the manga chapters of Berserk and the lore of League of Legends is pretty simple and straightforward. So there shouldn't be any problems there. I'll put out a few chapters of good length and see if I get a response. If people like it then I'll keep it up.**

 **The next chapter should be out later next week. I'm almost halfway done with it.**

 **Damn it feels good to be back.**

 **Lord out.**


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